


long past dawn

by make_your_user_a_name



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (mentioned) - Freeform, Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Episode: s09e07 Bad Boys, Grieving Sam Winchester, M/M, Supportive Sam Winchester, idk it's honestly not even that sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28270260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/make_your_user_a_name/pseuds/make_your_user_a_name
Summary: Sam knew Dean would hate him for it. Would snatch the phone from his hands and glare at him and probably avoid him for the rest of the day. Looking through his stuff was right up there with talking about his feelings in terms of unpardonable offenses.But Dean was gone. Forever this time.And Sam wasn’t having the wake alone. He couldn’t do it alone or he would throw himself right into that goddamn fire and burn right next to his brother.He didn’t know what he’d expected to find on Dean’s phone. He was- had been so guarded all the time. Kept everything close to his chest until it exploded and took his heart out with it. And he’d never been able to stop it. Sometimes he could pry some of it away and help Dean through it, but not really. Not enough.It hadn’t been enough. To save him. Dean’s death was on him. Because it had been Dean’s choice… he wasn’t stupid enough to miss that. Dean had wanted to die right then. And Sam hadn’t been able to change his mind. It wasn’t a fucking rusty nail that killed his brother. Dean killed himself.Sam clenched his teeth and forced back the tears gathering in his eyes, leaning back against Dean’s dresser and opening the messaging app.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 116





	long past dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fandom_Stuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Stuff/gifts).



Sam knew Dean would hate him for it. Would snatch the phone from his hands and glare at him and probably avoid him for the rest of the day. Looking through his stuff was right up there with talking about his feelings in terms of unpardonable offenses. 

But Dean was gone. Forever this time. 

And Sam wasn’t having the wake alone. He couldn’t do it alone or he would throw himself right into that goddamn fire and burn right next to his brother. 

He didn’t know what he’d expected to find on Dean’s phone. He was- had been so guarded all the time. Kept everything close to his chest until it exploded and took his heart out with it. And he’d never been able to stop it. Sometimes he could pry some of it away and help Dean through it, but not really. Not enough. 

It hadn’t been enough. To save him. Dean’s death was on him. Because it had been Dean’s choice… he wasn’t stupid enough to miss that. Dean had wanted to die right then. And Sam hadn’t been able to change his mind. It wasn’t a fucking rusty nail that killed his brother. Dean killed himself. 

Sam clenched his teeth and forced back the tears gathering in his eyes, leaning back against Dean’s dresser and opening the messaging app. 

He scrolled past the texts between him and Dean and hovered over Cas’ name. It didn’t seem right, somehow. Hell, most of the time just being in the same room as them didn’t seem right. He always felt- had felt like he was intruding. Like he was interrupting something personal and private and _beautiful_ that wasn’t meant for his eyes. 

He scrolled past it, not even reading the last sent message, and landed on Jody. The messages were several weeks old--the only people Dean had actually talked to recently were him and Cas. Another sharp pain went through his body and he slammed his hand on the ground, trying to control himself. 

He could get a handle on his grief for five fucking minutes. Dean deserved that much. Dean deserved a hell of a lot more than that much. 

He didn’t really understand the messages with Jody. They were out of context. They must have called first. She encouraged him to just talk about it, to be open about it, but he had no clue what “it” was so he clicked away. 

There was a thread with Claire. He opened it and nearly lost himself, the tears hot and heavy behind his eyes, ready to escape. But he didn’t let them. Dean offered Claire advice, if he had to guess it was about Kaia. Told her just to talk to her about it. Told her that it didn’t have to be awkward now that she was back from the dead. Told her to grab onto any happiness she could find and never let go. 

“Shoulda taken your own fucking advice,” Sam muttered before clicking away. 

When he looked at the next name, he frowned thoughtfully. Sonny… that was the name of the man who ran that boy’s home. Dean hadn’t ever told him what really happened there. Sure, he’d given him some story about a girl and a life away from Dad and some semblance of happiness. But there was something else. Something big. 

Sam took a deep breath and clicked into the messages, hands shaking slightly. Without reading them, almost on impulse, he hit call. 

He held the phone to his ear and waited on baited breath as it rang. Once. Twice. Then a soft click. 

“D-dawg?” The voice sounded tired, as if he’d just got up. Sam glanced down at his own phone as saw the time. One in the morning. Shit. “Something wrong?” 

“Uh, this is Sam, Sonny.” 

“Sam,” Sonny repeated. He was awake now, but now worry was laced into his voice. 

“Dean’s-” he started. But he couldn’t get the words out. He hadn’t said them to anyone yet. He would call Jody, Donna, Claire, Bobby, everyone who cared about Dean which wasn’t even a list; it was a goddamn novel- he would call them tomorrow. So he still hadn’t spoken the words. Hadn’t made it real. 

“Is he okay?”

“No,” Sam said fiercely. “No.” 

“What happened?” Sonny’s voice was steady but it had already dropped a little, something thick and broken behind it. 

When Sam didn’t answer, Sonny asked again, this time commanding, sure. So Sam told him. He told him about Jack. Told him about Chuck. Told him about Cas, or what little he knew. Then he told him about that day. About the vamp hunt. About Dean’s choice. The choice that ended it all. 

When he stopped talking, when it was all out in the open, Sonny was quiet. For a long time. The sound of his breathing barely audible through the phone. 

“Well, shit, kid,” he said finally. “I’m sorry,” he stopped for a minute, as if holding back tears. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” 

“Me too.” 

“He was a good man. The world was better with him in it.” 

Sam smiled in spite of himself, smiled through the tears he hadn’t realized were streaking down his cheeks. “That would mean a lot to him.” After a brief pause, he kept talking. He didn’t know why this man made it so easy, why he felt so safe with someone he’d never even known. “He was applying for a job. Did he tell you? Is that what he called about? He was gonna be a mechanic.” He laughed bitterly. “A normal life.” 

Sonny breathed in sharply and Sam could almost see him nod. “Yeah, he told me. Wasn’t gonna do that ‘til he rescued the angel, though.” 

“Cas?” 

“Did he ever tell you?” 

He didn’t have to say it. What he really meant. “No. No, he never said. But I knew. The way he looked at him…” he trailed off, fondness and despair twisting together in his heart. 

“You know,” Sonny said, his voice for the first time was shaking slightly, “There was a boy. Here. At the home. That’s why he didn’t want to leave. That’s why he had to stay. But he chose you.” 

Sam nodded, not really surprised, but not really sure what he was meant to do with that either. “He was a good brother. Father, mother, too. He raised me.” 

“He did a damn good job.” 

Sam ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward. “We’re having a- I don’t know how much you know about hunters. But we’re giving him a hunter’s funeral. In a few days. I know he would have wanted you there.” 

“Of course.” Another pause. Another well of unspoken questions. Then the one Sam knew would be coming. From each and every person he called. “Can you bring him back?” 

He sighed heavily and let himself slump back against the bunker. “Not this time.” Then softer, to make himself believe it, “Not this time.” 

Sam fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. He didn’t want to get off the phone. Didn’t want to confront the empty bunker and Miracle’s whines and the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen. But he had to. “Thanks for what you did for him. You gave him a place to be himself. I don’t think he ever really found that again. Not with Dad,” he snorted, “But not even with me. Not completely, anyway.” 

“We all do the best we can,” Sonny said, his voice empty. 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I should have stopped him, though. Saved him.”

“This isn’t on you, kid. Don’t think for one second this is on you.” 

Sam laughed bitterly again and shrugged to the empty room. 

“I’ll see you in a few days.” 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos give me life and comments give me superpowers (even though i never respond cuz i'm a terrible person)


End file.
